


The grief of Mer Dragonborn

by guren666



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, Markarth was given to Stormcloaks, This would happen if I sticked to vanilla game concept, my poor Dragonborn, post peace conference, sided with Legion, that didn't sit well with Ulfric of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guren666/pseuds/guren666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate and more vanilla take on the events in game when you take the peace conference route and give Markarth over to Stormcloaks. Glorfindel finds out something that changed his life upside - down. One Nord will pay with his life... Not related to More adventures of Dragonborn and ex -Thalmor in the slightest. Lots of blood and vengeance is really the best dish served cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The grief of Mer Dragonborn

The grief of Mer Dragonborn

I've defeated Alduin and the only ongoing threat was the civil war which was more and more tipped in the Stormcloaks's favor. I had no love for Ulfric since the peace conference and neither did he. Markarth was under his rule, but nothing has changed much for the people of Reach. Relatively speaking, all was going well as it could, considering the civil war was still ongoing.

… Or so I thought.

I was going to convince Ondolemar to leave the Thalmor forever. He and I had some prior history – needless to say, I have fallen in love with the altmer. Me, the dunmer Dragonborn. If anyone knew of our secret relationship... I shuddered at the thought.

Understone Keep, one month later...

How I've longed to see him! We parted on wrong accord the last time. We had a quarrel about his loyalty and his feelings which conflicted him. I felt bad for leaving, I confess anger was on the agenda of the day for us both. I wonder if he's up now? It's eleven in the night. He's walking the hall or not?

A sudden wave of dread washed over me as I ascended the stairs keeping me from seeing my altmer mage and two others walking behind him. In public eyes, we talk only about his duties, but we are communicating through cryptic messages encoded in our speech only we two understand. One starry night under the full moon had us bored and we thought out our secret speech. When he was able, he would slip out and meet with me. The times were short – lived, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Reminiscing about it brought a smile on my face. I stepped on the last stair and then, the dread was back. Ondolemar was nowhere in sight, neither his two faithful soldiers. Where is he?

No one sat in the Jarl's throne, no housecarl was there, no steward. It's eleven at night, of course they are not present. Maybe, just maybe Ondolemar is also sleeping? I prayed for the latter.

I traipsed to his shared chambers with the two elven soldiers of his. He always locked the door (I knew because Vex and Sapphire once sent me here on a bet which I inevitably lost, because he caught me and that's how the sparks of our love ignited) at night and when I found it open, I knew something was off.

Without much thinking, I barged in and four people immediately woke up – one dressed as a Stormcloak commander and others were dressed in Stormcloak uniforms. The presumed commander sat up, got his sword and pointed it at me. "Who are you?! What are you doing here in the middle of night?" He snarled at me, but I took in the horror of what I have done.

By giving Markarth over to Ulfric, Stormcloaks moved in. Ulfric and his lackey dogs hate Thalmor. Ondolemar is an agent of Thalmor. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, noooooo!

I approached the commander and picked him up easily, griping his sword pointed at me and it drew blood. I didn't feel pain, the strong dread dulled all my senses, the only pain was my heart thumping heavily in chest. The commander only gaped at the blood flowing down his sword and my hand. "Where is he? Where is Ondolemar?" I asked menacingly.

Commander wasn't responsive, so I softened him up, throwing him against the wall and my fist connected with his jaw. The soldiers only gaped. "Speak! Where is he!"

He didn't want to answer, so I punched him square in the jaw several times. I stopped when blood dripped down his chin. "Well?"

The commander heavily exhaled, smirking at me. "He's dead. Ulfric's second in command, Galmar Stone Fist executed the elven filth. Bastard didn't know what hit 'im." Then he proceeded to laugh in my face as sheer terror etched into my bones. He's dead? Ondolemar died... because of my actions?

"Oh, do I see the face of someone mourning? His kind don't deserve pity, it's misplaced. Scum of the worst caliber, his death was justified!" I snapped and my Mace of Molag Bal tasted the blood it so craved, absorbing the soul. I turned to finish the remaining Stormcloaks and left before the fighting woke up the authorities, cloaking myself in the shadows of night and escaping the alarmed guards at the gate to Understone Keep effortlessly.

If it's true, if he's really dead... I'll find him in the Hall of Dead.

Somewhere in the dank corners of my mind, I hoped he was alive and that was a cruel joke from the Stormcloaks. He's escaped and on the run, or he's back in his own province...

The Hall of Dead was deadly still, as I wandered the darkened paths, searching through every coffin, my heart rate speeding up by every uncovered lid.

I have reached the third path and I was confronted with a single coffin in the middle, ostracized from other coffins. I drew closer, my breath hitched. My fingers went up against the cover lid, I was bracing myself and swiftly uncovered the inside of the coffin.

The elf laid in stillness, in his Thalmor robes, hands crossed on chest and between his fingers was wedged an amulet of Talos.

It was him. No. I broke down, sobbing next to the dead elf. The tears wouldn't stop. I did this to him. His blood is on my hands. If I didn't hand over Markarth, he'd still be alive and I could convince him to go with me to Morrowind, to live freely with me.

He looked so calm, at peace. But I only felt sorrow and regret. "I am sorry, I am so sorry! If only I came sooner!"

No response.

What was I awaiting? He's dead. He's never coming back. I have lost him to some thug pretending he's fighting for something. Well, playtime is over, foul Stormcloaks.

I wiped my tears after a while, standing up and taking hold of his cold fingers. "I will avenge you. I shan't let the swine who took your life draw another breath, not while I am alive." I swore and kissed his forehead, our last kiss we'll ever share. I covered his coffin up and all of sudden, the priest of Arkay rushed in. "What are you doing with the Thalmor? I can't have you desecrating anyone, be they as they will. Lord Arkay is forgiving in death to all."

I smiled weakly, my eyes hurt from crying too much. I brushed past by the priest, murmuring. "Please, take care of his body."

The priest gave me a puzzled look which I countered with a half grin, half scowl. "Who are you?"

By the door, I threw one last glance at the coffin which held the elf I loved, still love. "The one who will finish it, for him." I said, leaving the crypts under Markarth.

Grief ate at me, but I suppressed it for now. I can grieve later.

A week later, gates of Windhelm...

The Nords have an ongoing tradition – if one is challenged, it's customary to accept the challenge and fight to death. The disputes differ in character – be it an insult, theft or murder.

I didn't care much for Nord customs, but this one had me at advantage as the Galmar bastard was part of the "true Nords" faction in the civil war. I breezed through the districts and went to the Palace of the Kings. I had no worries and paid no attention to the guards posted outside the Jarl's home.

They let me in.

Time to get the party started.

The ridiculously long table with many chairs was riddled with Stormcloaks and on the throne sat the obnoxious Nord.

I should gain their attention. I aimed my Shout at the table, to disrupt their slurping down of food. "Fus Ro Dah!"

It knocked everything down and I gained the eyes of everyone on me. Ulfric stood up along with everyone seated, angered. "You! Dragonborn! How dare you Shout here!" Ulfric yelled, unsheathing his sword, but I snorted, ignoring his idle threats. The murderer wasn't sitting by the table. "I came for only one man today. Galmar Stone Fist, step forward or I swear by Talos, I will kill everyone here, one by one until you slink out from hiding, you coward!"

All Stormcloaks brandished weapons and waited for Ulfric to speak up, but he didn't, only watched. "What do you want with my second – in command, Dragonborn?"

I had no patience with dealing with the damned Jarl nor his idiotic followers. I shouted to the corner. "Yol Tor Shuul!" Flames danced on the marbles and I have proved my point, because majority of them backed away, afraid I could burned to crisp easily.

"I am here. What's the ruckus about?"

The Nord I despised more than Ulfric showed up from one of the doors, his blunt warhammer on his back. He stepped before his leader and I stared eye to eye with the Nord. "In Markarth, you killed a man. A man who was important to someone. You didn't care he had somebody that cared about him, did you? That man was Ondolemar, an agent of Aldmeri Dominion. He was my lover, you fucking murderer!"

I heard the collective gasps, but the Stormcloaks can be damned for all I care. I threw a Nord styled axe all the way to his feet, unsheathing my Mace of Molag Bal. "I am challenging you to a duel. Only weapons. A duel to death."

Ulfric had other ideas. "Galmar, you don't have to accept, you did your duty. If anyone should accept, it's me."

Hell no. I glared at the Jarl of Windhelm. "Your hand didn't strike down without a warning the man I loved. It's him I want to fight."

The Nord with warhammer turned and nodded at Ulfric, who sat down and all others left the hall. Then, he picked up the axe and threw it at my head, I evaded and it was notched in the stony wall. "Impressive. You have far better reflexes than the Thalmor. Good. I accept your challenge and don't expect any mercy!"

I smirked, the sweetness of retribution was on my tongue. "Likewise. I left a river of blood behind me. I'll add your corpse to the pile with vengeance, Stormcloak."

Galmar grabbed his warhammer, approaching. "Gah, enough talk! You'll regret challenging me, milk drinker!"

The Nord was encircling me and I in return circled around him, the tension was in the air. I breathed calmly. This is it, the battle I've been waiting for. He swung his warhammer first and I ducked out of harm's way. I knew it. That weapon is slowing him down. Bad choice of weapon, that's why I preferred one handed weapons. I saw an opening and stroke back, but the Nord was quicker I'd expect with a huge hammer – he also somehow evaded and jumped back. He spit on the ground. "Not bad for an elf, not bad at all!" His voice boomed throughout the empty hall – save for that asshole Ulfric and us two, fighting.

I charged in full of zeal and the Nord followed suit, our weapons clashed. He was overpowering me with amazing strength in arms. I shut eyes. No, I cannot let that murderous swine live! For Ondolemar, I have to win!

"Grrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaghhhhhhh!" My hands were hurting from the pressure I was adding, but I didn't waver, adding more and more, innate willpower and sheer vengeance were at my disposal, stronger than any fanatical belief. The Nord's eyes widened as he saw me breaking the stalemate and pushing him backwards with his warhammer.

"Be careful!" We briefly heard Ulfric's concerned voice and the Nord wisely backed away before I gained control over the situation.

I cocked head to side, a slight grin curled on my lips as I broke down into a laughter. "You went insane, milk drinker?"

I ceased the cackling, covering my eyes with the free hand. Who says I have to honor their ways? I am not a Nord. I'll test if someone can be Shouted to pieces like the guards claim Ulfric did to deceased High King Torygg. After I removed the hands, the Nord visibly was trembling with fear. "I'll send you to Sovngarde, murderer."

The Nord snorted and charged at me and I couldn't hold back any longer. He was only inches away – his eyes burning with determination – and –- "Fus Ro Dah!" The impact of the Thu'um sent him flying to the opposite wall, I noted how Ulfric stood up, shocked that I broke my word, but I was going to finish it now. "Wuld Nah Kest!" I was there in a jiffy, my Mace of Molag Bal buried itself into the heart of the Nord and he groaned from pain. "No! How dare you!" Ulfric yelled out in outrage over the loss of his second in command. I wasn't done with Galmar. Oh, no. I twisted the blade, enjoying seeing how life was draining from the helpless body in between the wall and my sword, which was happily feeding on the soul.

As I suspected, Ulfric wasn't content with watching, so I summoned a dremora that kept him busy, returning to torment the dying Nord as long as I could. "How do you like that, Galmar?!"

The Nord's warhammer slipped from his grasp onto the marbled ground. His hateful glare pierced me through, spitting on my face. "Filthy elves! I might die, but Jarl Ulfric will unite Skyrim and we'll kill every last of the Thalmor!"

I wiped my face from the disgusting saliva, his blood was streaming down the Mace, and I leaned closer. "This isn't about the civil war. I don't care for Thalmor. Ondolemar was special to me, regardless of his associations. If you stayed your hand, you wouldn't be at my mercy now, Nord. No mercy for you or anyone of Stormcloaks. Die, filthy maggot!" I removed the Mace from his thoroughly pierced and bleeding heart, severing off his head in one fell swoop. The body slid down the wall and head rolled to my legs.

With satisfaction like any other, I've relished the death of another being. I might be cut out for Dark Brotherhood yet.

Ulfric managed to sent my dremora back to Oblivion and turned his attention to me, his sword aiming at me. "You! You're dead!"

He was a fool to attack me after witnessing taking out his trusted commander. "Zun Haal Viik!" The steel sword was knocked out from his hand and before he could bend and pick it up, I had mine pointed at his throat. "Don't provoke me, Ulfric. I came today for one man's death. If you try anything, I will put you down like the worthless dog you are." I said, drawing blood at the Nord's throat.

"You're dead, crazy elf. I'll see to it you'll be executed like your precious Thalmor lover." Ulfric retorted between his teeth, sneering at me.

"No, you'll die first. I'll join the Legion just to kill you." I stated, kicking him in the gut. He momentarily lost balance and I saw my chance to escape. "Iiz Slen Nus!"

The leader of Stormcloak rebellion was encased in ice and fell like a giant frozen icicle of the ground. I turned on heel, sheathing my weapon and leaving the accursed Palace of Kings.

Guards didn't know what transpired inside and I ran from the city, into the wilderness.

After I put some distance between myself and Windhelm in a icy cold forest, I stopped to catch my breath.

So, revenge is a dish best served cold. It's done. I have done what I swore. The pain of Ondolemar's death, however was lingering, along with grief.

He wouldn't want me to stop now. The haughty Justiciar would want me to continue. I owed it to him. I'll stop the civil war and then, I'll gladly rejoin him one day, wherever he is – be it heaven or hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate take on the effects of the peace conference at High Hrotgar. If you give over Markarth to Ulfric, all Thalmor will be executed. I watched a video of the unused original concept that Galmar is the one that executed Ondolemar in Understone Keep. That escalated quickly? Back to more happier More adventures of Dragonborn and ex - Thalmor. Any feedback would be welcome. n_n


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